Annihilate
by The Elusive Cryptic
Summary: Alphas will fight for the cursed bloodline. On the sidelines, relationships, sanity and the people of Beacon Hills are falling apart. Everything is ebbing right through their fingers. Can they keep their grip? Or will everything be destroyed? (Sequel to Attract; Hiatus)
1. Because I'm Awesome

**"I always tell you how good you smell. It's 'cause I'm naturally deodorized." **

** _- The Dollyrots_**

* * *

The world in front of me begins to look like painting ruined by rain, blending all the colors together, making it a mess that's hardly decipherable.

(_we're truly sorry)_

_ (it looks like she did it to herself)_

_ (do you have anyone to stay with)_

My eyes focus on the phone in front of me. I press speed-dial, waiting for the other end to pick up.

Voicemail.

"Hey Derek," I start off. I scratch the back of my neck and sniffle, wiping at my sore and puffy eyes. "I was wondering if you found Boyd and Erica yet. I'm coming down to Beacon Hills again for, uh…a funeral. Thought if you needed some help while I'm there, I could…I'll see you soon, I guess. Okay…bye."

I sniff again, leaning against the doorframe. How many times had I called and gotten voicemail; five? I shake my head.

I shift my eyes over to the bag on the bed and shove more of my things in there; an extra pair of shoes, clothes, the essentials. It's heavy by the time I lift it into the car, leaving Leo's motorcycle at home. I close the trunk and lean against it, looking at my reflection in the window. I smooth down my hair and frown at how puffy my eyes look.

I jump nearly a foot when my phone rings, then yank it out, hoping its Derek finally calling back. I look at the caller ID.

Sami.

I flip it open, "Hey, Sami."

"_Hey,_" there's an awkward pause. "_How you feeling?"_

"Been better," I tell her.

"_What time are you coming? You can stay at my place for a while. I'll be at school, but my mom says it's fine for you to stay over there until I get back for your mom's funeral." _

I nod, "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm on my way there now."

"_Okay. You sure you want to come home to do it?_"

"Yeah," I clear my throat. "We have…reservations there."

"_Your grandma's birthday present, huh?_" Sami chuckles, trying to lighten the mood in reminding me of my grandmother's birthday present from a few years ago.

Grave plots. What an uplifting present.

"Right," I agree, smiling to myself a little bit. "I better get going if I want to get there today."

_ "Call when you get here," _Sami says, hanging up. I close the phone and toss it into the passenger seat, getting inside and making sure I have everything again.

"Just a couple days," I murmur, pulling out of the motel parking lot.

Right, like anything is short-term in Beacon Hills.

* * *

"Hey, Sami," I talk into the phone, tucking it into my shoulder as I fill up the gas tank.

God, this disgusting smelling fluid is **not** cheap. **Especially** in California.

"I'm just about there," I tell her, well, her voicemail. "Maybe about…an hour at the latest. Call when you get this message."

I slide the credit card through the slot and screw on the lid, tucking my phone into my jacket pocket. Just to my right I notice a gas hose leaking out on the ground.

Someone is going to get the biggest gas bill…

I look around for anyone by the tanks, car or the station. (It's empty, of course.) I pick up the hose and put it back in, crinkling my nose at the awful smell.

"Hello?" I ask, looking around. I peek around the corner, spotting a silhouette of someone walking towards me. "Is this your car?"

The figure moves closer, and I can tell it's a man. Not much older, by the shape of him. Then he moves faster, and I back up a bit.

Then starts running at me, moving his arms to spin something around his shoulders.

A gun. Oh my God, he's going to kill me.

"Get down!" He yells, moving a little to the side.

I duck, covering my neck and crouching down so my heels make my feet ache. My heart pounds like a hammer against my chest and my hands shake as I lock them together. I let out a startled noise between a whimper and a scream.

Gunshots echo and there's growling on the other side of the car.

He kneels down beside me and glances through the window on the other side. "Hello," he says with a warm smile.

"What?" There's guns and growling and he's saying _hello_?

"What's your name?" He asks, looking me in the eye.

"My name?" I yell, "My name? What's your name!"

"Well, I'm Oliver," He says. "And you should maybe get back in your car if you want to live."

"What?"

"My," He looks at me like** I'm** the insane one and opens the door, pushing me inside. "You ask a lot of questions, don't you?"

I crawl in and he gently shoves me into the passenger seat, slamming the door and speeding off to the road, leaving tire marks behind us.

"What are you doing?" I scream at him.

He flinches and adjusts the rearview mirror, then turns to me and says, "Do you ever speak to people at non-earsplitting decibels?" He rolls his shoulders and wipes some seat off of his dark, practically flawless, skin. I look away and lean back in my seat, taking a deep breath, trying not to shriek at him again.

"By the way," He starts again, "I'm driving. Where are you going exactly, now?"

"Why would I tell you?" I ask him, my hands fidgeting in my lap. I smooth out my dress and try to calm down. Of course, it's not helping much. "What are you doing?" I ask at a 'non-earsplitting decibel', "What happened back there and why are you kidnapping me?"

"Saving you," He corrects, pointing at me. "Those were werewolves; I think you know about that, though. And I am driving to a safe destination."

"Why?" I ask, wiggling my toes impatiently. "Why were they there?"

"Following you, I'm fairly certain. Your scent must've given it away. Your perfume is nice, just to let you know. Is that vanilla?"

I glare at him.

He raises an eyebrow. "Where is it you were on your way to, now?"

"I don't even know you," I point out, "and if you get out of my car right now, **after** you tell me what's going on, I won't press charges."

He scoffs, "Pressing charges? You think I'm worried about that right now?" He looks in the rear view mirror again.

I groan in exasperation and flop back in my seat. "What was your name again?"

"Oliver," He says. "And you're Diana, am I correct?"

"Yeah," I nod. I sit up and turn towards him, "How do you know me?"

"It's better you don't know that until we get to Beacon Hills."

"Beacon Hills?" I ask him. "Why are you going to Beacon Hills?"

"My sister's there, helping your friend Isaac," he says.

"Isaac?" I ask, sitting up straight. "What happened to Isaac? What did you do to him?"

"Saved him," He looks at me. "Think of me as a…knight in shining…leather," he tells me, holding his collar up to show me.

I roll my eyes, "Alright, then." I sink back down, looking out the window. "Who were those…wolves back there? What were they doing?"

"How about we listen to music? Yeah?" He presses the button and music blares from the speakers. "_Marina and the Diamonds_?"

"What?" I look at him.

"Your music," he states. "It's good."

"Yeah," I nod, "I mean, no. No music." I turn it off, glaring at him. "What's going on?"

"My sister will tell you that in about," he pauses to look at his watch, "Yeah, about twenty minutes. In the meantime, let's hear some more music."

He turns on the song again and I lean back in my seat, tilting my head back and spotting my phone on the floor by my feet. I pick it up and dial Derek's cell.

"Who are you calling?" He asks, like he's taking precautions.

"Derek," I mutter. "You must know him, too," I add with a sardonic tone.

"Mm-hmm," he says, mimicking my manner. He taps his fingers on the steering wheel, matching the beat of the song.

"Would you care to tell me** how** you know all of this?" I ask.

"Would you care to wait?" He sasses back.

I sigh, "All right."

The phone leaps back to voicemail and I slam it shut; one upside to having a flip phone.

"We'll be there in twenty minutes, just hold on."

So I do. I hold on and sit there, writhing in red hot fury and utter confusion. The only thing I really understand is this guy's sister better have some answers.

* * *

So, I got the rewrite up. I was going to start off things differently, but decided to get straight to the point. Sort of...

Let me know what you guys think!


	2. Seven Devils

Sorry this took so long you guys! I was visiting some relatives and the power went out, so I made this one longer! Let me know what you guys think.

* * *

_**"See I've come to burn your kingdom down  
And no rivers and no lakes, can put the fire out  
I'm gonna raise the stakes; I'm gonna smoke you out"**_

**-****Florence + the Machine**

* * *

Beacon Hills is different. It seems calmer, more serene. But that might just be that no police cars are blaring and flashing for once.

"Why does your sister have Isaac?" I ask Oliver, who's sitting completely still and keeping his eyes forward, his fingers bouncing rhythmically.

"Let's just say he got into a bit a trouble," he answers.

I groan quietly and look back out the window. In twenty minutes, Oliver had managed to be the most annoying, secretive and jumpy person I had ever known. I started to live with it until I knew Isaac was safe after ten minutes of asking questions I had gotten no answers to.

"You know, you can at least tell me what's going on," I tell him.

He shrugs, "That is completely true, but my sister knows a lot more than I do. She didn't tell me much."

"Must run in the family," I mutter as he pulls into the hospital parking lot. I jump out as quickly as I can, trying to get some distance. All Oliver does is move even closer to me.

"Stay close," he says, slipping his arm through mine and leading me up through the doors.

I sigh, "Yeah, okay."

The front desk is occupied by a woman with bright red hair curled into ringlets framing small, and judging, brown eyes. She barely looks up from her computer, "Can I help you?"

"Yes," Oliver says. "I am looking for the room number of Isaac," he looks over his shoulder at me and whispers, "What's his last name?"

"Lahey."

"Lahey."

She looks through a clipboard and points to the elevator, "Room 215. Second floor."

"Thank you," Oliver smiles at her. "Have a nice day."

"Mm-hmm," the woman says with tight lips, clicking away on her mouse.

Couldn't blame her; Oliver's getting on my nerves as well.

"Move a little faster," he instructs, tugging me towards the closing elevator. He slips his hand through just in time and it opens to reveal another teenager.

Scott.

"Diana?" he asks, "What are you doing here? Who's he?"

"Uh," I look up at Oliver, who extends his hand out to Scott.

"An acquaintance," He answers. Scott shakes his hand hesitantly, still looking over at me.

"I thought you were in Seattle," Scott asks.

"I was," I tell him. "I have a funeral to go to."

Scott furrows his eyebrows and leans in closer, "Is he related or something?"

I raise my eyebrows at him and look over at Oliver, who's standing with his hands in his pockets, pretending to mind his own business. (He isn't the best actor either.) He taps his foots on the floor and whistles quietly.

"Really, Scott?" I ask, looking us both over.

Diana: Blonde, Caucasian, green eyes.

Oliver: Brown hair, (gorgeous) dark skin, brown eyes.

Scott shrugs and looks up at the glowing numbers, then looks down at me again, "Wait, who died?"

I cross my arms and click my heel against the floor in agitation, then mumble, "My mom."

Scott sucks in an awkward breath and then turns back to the door, "Oh. Uh, I'm sorry. I didn't think-"

"Don't worry about it." I tell him, leaning back against the wall. I notice Oliver looking me over quizzically. "What?"

"Nothing," Oliver says, "Nothing at all."

I shake my head and turn back to the door while Scott stands there studying us, confused.

The elevator finally stops and Oliver jumps out faster than any of us, practically flying down the hall to the room.

"Is he there?" Scott asks. I look inside with him.

Nothing; Isaac isn't anywhere in sight.

"Why isn't he here?"

I look to Oliver for an answer, but it's Scott that says, "Maybe they took him to surgery."

Oliver powerwalks to the next room over, opening the door just a bit and peeking inside. His mouth tightens, "Damn it."

"What happened?" I ask, looking over his shoulder. There's no girl in there, but a deputy is bleeding from the head, knocked out cold, and handcuffed to the hospital bed. "What did she do?" I ask him, horrified.

This isn't helping…at all.

Oliver looks around the halls. "Does no one notice a patient walking around the hospital?"

"If they noticed anything, people wouldn't be getting strangled." I tell him, remembering that poor Jessica girl from a few months ago.

"Strangled?" Oliver looks over, his brown eyes wide.

"Nothing," I say. "Don't worry about it."

Oliver shuts the door and walks down the hall at a pace I struggle to keep up with in my funeral attire. (Heels and a dress aren't exactly running clothes.) He looks around the halls, straining his neck around corners and nearly running over doctors and nurses. He stops in front of the elevator and presses the button. I look around and realize Scott's now missing.

"Any idea where your sister is?" I ask him.

"I have a few," he answers. "Go with your boyfriend."

"Yeah, he's not my boyfriend," I correct him. "And he's not exactly here anymore."

Oliver looks over his shoulder and shrugs, "Yeah, look at that. What's his name, by the way?"

"Scott," I say hesitantly. "Why?"

"McCall?" He spins to stare at me with wide eyes.

"Yeah," I tell him. "Wait, how do you know him?"

"So, he's your boyfriend, right?" Oliver asks. "You are the alpha's mate, aren't you?"

"Mate?" I cross my arms. "I'm not a dog. And he's not my boyfriend."

"So, you're not the alpha's…" he pauses to look over his shoulder, "girlfriend."

"Well, sort of. But Scott's not-"

"I get it," Oliver snaps as the elevator dings. He steps inside, "Just go find him."

"Now?"

"Now."

He disappears behind the elevator doors and I step back, flitting from hall to hall, looking for the grimy jacket Scott's wearing. I don't have a lot on luck in that department, since the hospital is crowded with doctors and nurses weaving through their own line of unwanted obstacles. Finally, I spot a whitewashed jacket turning the corner ahead of me.

"Scott!" I yell, grabbing his jacket. He spins around and scans the hallway.

"Where'd that guy go?" he asks.

"He went to find his sister," I tell him. "Did you find Isaac yet?"

"No, but…" He voices weakens and his eyes widen, looking ahead of me, "Found him!"

I spin on my heels to see Isaac wheeled into an elevator, his head lolling against his shoulders, his arms draped limply over his lap. A man pushes him and pauses as Scott tilts his head, taking a few steps forward. He turns and…

"Ennis?" I breathe.

Scott runs and I just barely follow him inside the elevator, the doors closing behind us as Scott bares his fangs, growling at Ennis. Ennis growls back, his eyes igniting a brilliant scarlet, the iris taking up most of his eyes, like a cat's.

This is _**so**_ not the Ennis I'd met before.

I drop to the floor as Ennis takes Scott, throwing him up. Scott falls back down with sparks scarring his jacket and hair. I move over to Isaac in the mist of the clash, keeping my head low and rolling his wheelchair into a corner, huddling in close and making a cocoon around his body. I push his arms into his lap, wrapping one arm around his neck, lacing my fingers through his curls and whimpering in fear of being clawed to death at any moment. I burrow in closer as more snarls and breaking ensue.

"Don't you know what you're dealing with?" Ennis asks, a roar behind his human voice. "I'm an alpha."

I sink down in even further, holding Isaac close and making sure he's completely protected as the elevator rings, opening to another floor.

We _**have**_ to be seen, for sure. Who wouldn't see a pair of inhuman creatures mauling each other?

There's a gasp of pain and a missed and familiar voice menacingly mocking, "So am I."

I look up and see Derek, his claws embedding Ennis' back, tearing him from the elevator and throwing him into the hall, which is conveniently emptied of all personnel.

Scott sits on the floor, wolfed out and staring up at Derek with glowing amber eyes. Derek stares back over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows.

"Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

I stand up and look over at him, keeping a hand on Isaac's shoulder. I try to flood my head with this image. This perfect thing I haven't seen in so long. I take a deep breath as he stares back at me.

"Derek," I say, "Perfect timing, as usual."

He scoffs and presses the button to the ground floor, darting his eyes between me and Isaac. "I thought you were in Seattle," he tells me, his voice having a relieved tint to it.

"Yeah, I tried to call you like, seven times," I tell him.

He takes his phone out of his pocket, flashing his broken screen in my direction. I nod and Scott stands up, leaning heavily against the wall.

"Are you healing?" I ask him. He looks up at me, holding his stomach and nodding.

"Did he scratch you?" Derek probes him. Scott shakes his head and straightens up.

"No," Scott mumbles.

I step up to Derek's side, his arm brushing my shoulder. I look over at Isaac, who's still passed out in the wheelchair, and then up to Derek, "Did you find them yet?"

He looks down at me and hesitates, then shakes his head and replies quietly, "Not yet."

The elevator opens and I wheel Isaac out, following Derek down the hall and near the front desk.

"Distract her," Derek whispers to Scott.

Scott nods, "Okay."

He steps up to the desk, getting her attention before she can see us exiting to Derek's Camaro. He sets Isaac in the backseat after I slide in, pulling Isaac in as Derek shuts the door. I pull Isaac's head into my lap and lean back, a million questions humming through mind.

Ennis; how can he be a werewolf? An _**alpha**_? He wasn't vicious the first time I'd met him with my father. Then again, it was the earliest memory I'd ever really had: Jumping on the trampoline with him while Dad made a phone call. I'd asked before he died how long ago that was, since the memory was so foggy. He'd said I was only four when he visited. Mom never really liked to speak with him…

Mom.

Oh, hell, the funeral. I'm going to miss my mother's funeral, I think checking my watch.

"Are you alright?" Derek asks, interrupting my thoughts.

I give him a small smile and nod, "I'm okay."

Derek flickers his gaze down to Isaac and then meets mine again, those green/grey eyes burning holes in me.

"Why'd you come back?" Derek asks. "Aren't you supposed to be in Seattle?"

"Um, I have a funeral to go to," I tell him.

"You came all the way here for a funeral?" Derek asks, genuinely curious as to why I'd come so far back for one funeral.

"It's my-"

Scott pulls the door open and sits in the passenger seat, "Is Isaac okay?"

I nod, pulling open his hospital gown and seeing no noticeable wounds. "He looks fine."

Scott nods and turns to Derek, "Are we taking him back to your place? They're going to wonder why Isaac's missing."

"Get your mother to handle it," Derek says, pulling out.

Way to smash everything on Melissa's head, Derek.

Derek picks up Isaac's still-limp body and carries him through the threshold of the burnt-out shell of what used to be his home. He sets him on a burnt, broken table and starts to dig around in the hole in the floor where his uncle had once been zombified.

I'd actually liked the guy until Scott had told me what he did. He'd gone from sassy, entertaining uncle to an annoying, but still sassy, asshole.

"Do you still live here?" Scott asks him.

"No," Derek says, "The County took it over. There's just something I need here to heal Isaac."

"But he healed," I say.

He looks at us and shakes his head, "Not on the inside."

"Oh," I nod, watching him pull out some pretty purple flowers by the root and lay them out on the table in front of Isaac. He sorts through them and crushes one in his palm. Scott's phone rings, making me jump as he takes it out and answers it.

"Now's not really a good time Stiles," he answers.

"_Ms. Blake's…Birds…discussion,"_ I can hardly hear anything and decide to ignore it, watching as Derek works his magic on Isaac.

"Are you gonna tell me who that was back there?" Scott asks Derek.

Derek looks up at him and says, "He's from a rival pack. Don't worry about it, it's my problem. I know you want to help and you did. I owe you." He stands up straighter and wipes his hands on his jeans, "Now go home, go back to being teenager."

Scott starts to turn, but pauses and rubs his arm. "Uh, Derek, if you want to pay back that favor now…"

Derek looks to Scott and raises his eyebrows expectantly.

"I need help getting a tattoo," Scott finishes.

Derek purses his lips and sucks in his breath.

"Alright."

* * *

"Now I see it," Derek says after studying Scott's arm. His eyes flicker back to their normal green-grey color and he looks up to Scott again. "Two bands, right?"

"Yeah."

"What does it mean?" Derek asks him. I shift my pose and nod to Stiles, who'd showed up just a few minutes ago. He nods back and smiles his big goofy smile that's so utterly adorable.

"I don't know," Scott tells him. "Just something I traced with my fingers." He presses his fingertips to the dusty surface of the floor, outlining them into the shape of a thin circle and a thicker one surrounding it.

"Why is this so important to you?" Derek asks, more gentle with him than I've ever really seen.

"Do you know what the word tattoo means," Scott asks, still gazing at the spirals.

"To mark something," Stiles says proudly, crossing his arms across his chest.

"That's in Tahitian," Scott corrects. "In Samoan, it means 'open wound'. I knew I was going to get a tattoo when I was eighteen; I always wanted one. I just decided to get it now, to make some kind of a…reward."

I shift my weight to the other foot, tilting my head a bit in concentration. I know Scott deserves a reward for everything he's done the past year. What I want to know is what he thinks he deserves it for. I know Derek's thinking the same as he asks, "For what?"

"For not calling or texting Allison all summer," Scott says wistfully. "Even when I really wanted to; even when it was so hard not to sometimes."

A few months ago I would've tried not to scoff. The girl rubbed me the wrong way; not to mention she almost murdered my friends and boyfriend. Now, looking at Derek, I realize how much it hurts, not being able to call and hear her voice even when his heart ached for it. How much worse it probably was for him since I'd been able to call Derek and at least _**hear**_ him in those few months.

"Trying to give her the space she wants," Scott says, looking at the ground thoughtfully.

Derek stares at him in understanding and nods in thought. Scott scoffs to himself and leans back in the chair, making it creak, "And four months later, it stills hurts. Still feels like…like a…"

"An open wound," I murmur, remembering the days.

Scott looks at me and nods. Derek's gaze flickers to me and his eyes widen a bit, studying me. He then turns his gaze back to Scott, who watches Derek expectantly.

Derek nods again and pulls a heavy, metal black thing from the box that's been sitting beside him since he'd dug it up from somewhere in the old house, "The pains gonna be worse than anything you've ever felt."

"Ah," Stiles nods, taking a few steps towards the door. "I'll take that as my cue to leave."

Derek cuts him off before he can escape, pushing him back with a hand on the chest.

"Nope," he tells him. "You're going to help hold him down."

"Uh, well," Stiles begins to stutter, the color draining from his face as he stares at the metal piece.

"Oh, for-" I walk over behind Scott's chair. "I'll hold him down."

Derek looks to me, then down to Scott, and lights up a blaze of fire over top the thing.

"Oh!" Stiles says as Scott's eyes widen to the side of golf balls. "I'm just gonna wait outside."

He departures and I put my hands on Scott's shoulders, the warmth of his skin warming my palms. He jumps and flutters his gaze to mine, then back to Derek's, "Do it."

Derek takes a deep breath and holds the flame over Scott's bicep, rotating it around his skin where I presume the tattoo is hidden underneath.

Scott rears back, jostling the chair into my gut. I flinch and hold down his shoulders as he cries out, his voice laced with the growl of a wolf. He howls and flails and I move my hands down to his chest and press him back into the chair. His eyes start to blaze brilliant amber and his back arches, twisting around as he tries to escape the agony.

As I hold down the screaming teenager, my empathy kicks into full gear and I'm too close to yelling at Derek to stop, but he lifts Scott's arm in a firm grip and gets the rest of the tattoo, which is slowly coming up through the layers of skin burned off and healing at the same time.

The tattoo comes into full view after a few minutes of almost unbearable cries and howls. Derek pulls the flame away, letting it die out as he lessens his grip on the control. Scott's eyes roll back and his thrashing stops all together and he slumps down into the chair, his head resting on his chest while his skin regenerates on his crisp and black arm.

"It's done?" I ask. Derek nods and puts his tools back into the box and looks back at Isaac, who's still passed out and lain across the table.

"He'll heal and the tattoo will come up through the healing layers of skin," Derek explains.

"Right, cause that makes setting him on fire so much more logical," I say, smiling at him a bit. His expression changes into something unfathomable as he gazes down at Scott. He stands up and sets the box under the stairs. I lean against the railing and study him. His posture is so different now, more …worried, depressed.

"Are you okay?" I ask him, leaning my head back.

"I'm fine," Derek pushes it away.

I sigh and decide not to press any further, "Okay."

Stiles pokes his head around the corner and glances in, "You're done, right?"

"Yeah," Derek says, walking away and crossing back to Scott's chair, leaning against the sofa across from him.

Stiles sighs, "Good, because there was all this yelling, and growling and I thought something bad had happened."

"No Stiles," I tell him, "we just burned off layer after layer of his skin."

Scott awakens and he gasps, looking down at his ink-covered arm in relief, "It worked."

I toss him his T-shirt and sit on the couch, smoothing out my dress and clicking my heels on the floor again. Scott pulls his T-shirt over his head and he and Stiles nod their goodbyes and head for the door. Derek walks back over to Isaac, checking his wounds over with his eyes glowing scarlet.

"Looks pretty damn permanent to me," Stiles tells him while they go.

I close my eyes and lean my head back, going over the events; and Ennis.

Mostly Ennis.

The man had come over to _**my house**_. I'd jumped on the freaking_** trampoline with him**_ when I was practically a toddler. He always seemed intense, but never alpha-killer intense. He'd always seemed so friendly with Dad. How could he possibly be like that?

"You painted the door," Scott pipes up. I open my eyes and look over at him as he studies the door. He looks around the other side and then back to Derek, who looks almost scared.

"Why'd you paint the door?" Scott asks him. "And why only one side?"

"Scott, it's a door," I tell him, standing up.

"Go home, Scott," Derek says, a pleading tone to his voice.

_**Now**_ I was worried. Why would Derek be so afraid of Scott asking him about a _**door**_?

Scott flicks his wrist and his claws come out, tracing one of them down the door, peeling off the paint. He begins to claw at it with both hands, like a kitten at a scratching post.

"Scott!" Derek says, hustling over to the two.

I follow him over and see Scott stare at the scratched up door quizzically. I look over and see a symbol painted on it with black. Like a triskelion with a more triangular shape to the where the spirals were.

It's so familiar…Where have I seen it before?

Derek crosses his arms and purses his mouth, directing his stare to Scott, who asks, "What is this?"

_**And where have I seen it before?**_

"The deer last night," Scott starts to put it together. "The deer in the road last night, the deer in the woods…the night I was bitten by the alpha." He glares at Derek, "How many are there?"

Derek sucks in a breath, "He had a pack of 'em…An alpha pack."

"All of them?" Stiles asks. "How does that even work?"

"I hear there's some kind of a leader," Derek says. "His name is Deucalion."

I freeze up, my blood running cold in my veins, "Deucalion? Are you sure?"

Derek looks to me and nods, "I'm sure."

"And he's the leader? Of Ennis and the others?" I ask him, my heart beating against my ribcage painfully, my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Derek crinkles his brow together in curiosity, "You know him?"

I run my hands over my face, taking deep breaths. How could that be? I saw the blood…

"Diana," Derek asks, looking at me with concern. "Do you know him?"

"Know him?" I ask, my voice rising with every word. "He's my father."


	3. Head Is Not My Home

This isn't one of my best chapter since I struggled a bit on how to write this. Let me know what you think I should improve on or anything else.

Warning: This chapter contains some...13...15+(?) content. I don't know, whatever. It's rated _T_ for a reason.

* * *

**_"I'll reveal nothing _**  
**_We'll both play it fake, p_****_retend not to worry _**  
**_Our hearts, y_****_our hearts at stake _**  
**_My mouth your lips, y_****_our hands my hips _**  
**_Our time right now _**  
_**Will set us free** **a**_**__****nd** relieve us of our misery."

_-_**MS MR**

* * *

"Your what?" Scott nearly yells. "How…_**What**_?"

"Yeah," Stiles chimes in, "I thought your dad was dead. Did his little alpha buddies bring him back in March or something?"

"He is," I defend, "I mean, I…I thought he was…"

My stomach knots up until I can feel the bile rising in my throat. My skin starts to feel like it's shrinking on me, like meat shriveling up while it's being cooked. I _**feel**_ like I'm being cooked, so I take off my scarf, wringing it around in my hands, contemplating all the possible outcomes or possibilities on just _**how**_ my presumed dead father was somehow alive and targeting everyone.

"Oh, God," I sink down and sit on the bottom stair, burying my hands in my face.

He couldn't have done this. He couldn't _**be**_ this. It just doesn't add up, not the father I knew…

But it does add up.

Derek kneels down beside me, gently pulling my hands away from my face. I wipe my eyes and take a deep breath before I pass out or throw up.

"How do you know it's him?" Derek asks.

"Yeah," Stiles says, "It could just be another Deucalion."

"Another Deucalion," I ask, standing up and walking towards the door. Stiles takes a step back and I gesture to the symbol. "During my freshman year, we went to Greece for two years where my dad had this big house with that exact same symbol on the arch above the door. Ennis," I look over to Scott, "that alpha in the elevator, he came over to visit my dad."

Scott and Stiles glance at each other and Derek puts a hand on my shoulder and turns me a little to look him in the eye.

"Do you know anything else about him?" Derek asks me, "Anything we could use?"

I wipe my eyes again and drag my hands down my face, giving him my special 'pissed-off' tone, "He's blind, does that help?"

Derek drops his hand from my shoulder and all the boys look uncomfortable. A ringtone breaks the silence and I flip open the Motorola.

"Hello?"

"_Diana!"_ Sami's voice rings through the silence, "_Where are you? You practically missed the funeral_."

I shake my head to myself and pick up my scarf from the stairs, "I'm sorry, I just…I'll be right there. For the...the burial, okay?"

Sami pauses and Derek walks back to Isaac, who's starting to flutter his eyes. I stare back at the symbol on the door, wrapping the scarf around my wrist.

_**It couldn't be him…**_

"_Diana?"_ Sami's voice pulls me away, "_Are you doing okay? Do you want me to pick you up?"_

"I'm okay," I tell her, "I'll be there in a little bit."

"_Okay_," Sami says, hanging up a couple of seconds after.

I shove the phone back into my pocket and blow some air from my mouth, calming myself down a little. I turn to Stiles and ask, "Do you think you could drive to the hospital? I left my car there."

"Yeah," Stiles jumps, holding his arms out to the door, gesturing for me to go first.

"Thanks," I murmur, leading the way to his jeep.

* * *

"So," I start off, "how are you and Sami?"

Stiles grunts and runs his tongue across his teeth, "Well, uh…We kinda, uh, broke up."

I nod a "Hmm" and fold my scarf in my lap, "Why?"

"Well," Stiles scratches his nose and bounces his hands on the steering wheel.

"You don't have to tell me," I say to him, "It's fine."

"No, it's…" He gives me a grateful glance and says, "Thanks."

"Yeah."

"Hey," Stiles asks after a few more minutes. "If you skipped a couple of years, aren't you supposed to be like…in college? Or did you go to school in Greece?"

"Is that's what's been bothering you the entire ride?" I ask him.

Stiles shrugs, "One of them. There's more questions…a lot more. But I won't ask them now. Maybe not ever…well, maybe sometime-"

"Stiles."

"Yeah," he looks over at me.

"Do you always rant when you're nervous?" I ask him.

"Nervous?" Stiles asks. I quirk an eyebrow at him and he sighs, "Yeah, sort of."

"Yes," I answer, "I went to school in Greece, but the education system down there is different so I had to repeat a year. I'll be eighteen in a few days."

"Well," Stiles says, making a duck face and moving his shoulders in an awkward-looking twitch, "Happy early birthday."

"Thanks," I murmur.

Stiles leans back and sighs deeply, "Uh…I'm really sorry about your mom."

I nod and lean an elbow on the window, "It's fine." But I know he can tell it's not, since my flat tone gives it all away.

"I know how much it sucks," Stiles goes on. "So…I can kind of relate…"

I smile over at him, because he does know how it feels. He's one of the only people I believe actually knows what's going on. Knows how it feels that your mother will never yell at you again or brush your hair over your ear or not have her comfort you when you need her most because she's the one being buried.

It's quiet until we get to the hospital, where Stiles pulls in next to my car.

"Thanks, Stiles," I say, closing the thin door to his old Jeep.

"No prah-blame-oh," Stiles says, flashing me his goofy grin. "Tell Sami I said hi!"

"I'll try to remember," I tell him. He nods and waits until I unlock and open the door to my car to pull out of the parking lot.

I sit in the seat for a minute, opening the mirror and checking my make-up. People won't care what I look like as long as I at least show up for the burial. But I don't need them knowing I've been bawling my eyes out like a little girl, needing meaningless hugs from people I barely know; most of whom don't even understand.

Sometimes people don't show up to funerals when the deceased was actually deceased by suicide, right? I could skip and look like I was mad at her, use the excuse that she'd abandoned me.

I wouldn't even be lying…

But, I can't; I can't let her go without telling her goodbye. She was my mother, someone who'd loved me through my bratty pre-teen stage; through all the emotional dramas and stuck close after everything.

I pull out my purse from underneath the seat and dab on concealer to hide the puffy redness under my eyes, staring at someone in the mirror that looks so old and worn down. My eyes are bloodshot; my hair messy from the elevator incident and my skin looks lifeless and pale, like I'm sick. I _**feel**_ sick; my stomach would be churning if I'd eaten any real food in the last few days and my hearts pounds, vibrating in muffles to my ears.

I turn on some music, letting the white noise block everything else I'm feeling while I drive off to the cemetery.

* * *

"Where were you?" Sami asks in a whisper as I pull up behind the line of cars. Only a few close friends from work and a few I vaguely remember stand around the coffin, waiting for it to be lowered into the ground; the body that once held a soul.

"I…" I swallow the lump in my throat and shake my head. "I-I just needed some time alone. I couldn't…I…" I close my eyes and lean my chin against my chest. Everything still dark behind my closed eyes, I ask, "Did a lot of people show up?"

"A lot of people from her workplace, I guess," Sami tells me. "A few kids from school came, but they couldn't find you. You didn't have a visitation, either, so a lot more came."

"I'm sorry I missed it," I tell her, trying to stop my voice from cracking.

Sami nods and holds out her arms, something I respond to with almost squeezing the life out of her with a hug. I bury my face in her hair, which smells like summer, like it always does.

Her apparel isn't much different from mine, though her dress is a dark shade of plum instead of black; and her shoes are flats instead of heels.

"People will understand," Sami tells me, rubbing my back. I suck in a huge breath and pull back, keeping my arm around her waist while she keeps hers around my shoulders. Together, we walk towards the hurricane of sympathetic words and hugs.

* * *

I end up staying behind the longest, staring at the grave marker that'll pass for a headstone until the engraved one arrives.

The date seems unnatural, like someone had messed it up. It feels like Death is mocking me with it.

_**All the death dates in a row; father to son, mother to daughter. **_

My hands twitch and I shift my coat to the other arm, getting the feeling of someone's eyes following me. I look around and see nothing, shaking my head and gasping lightly when Derek suddenly appears at my side as I spin back around.

"You didn't tell me it was your mother," Derek says softly.

"Didn't really have time," I tell him. He looks me over, as if checking for wounds. I shake off a sinking feeling and ask, "Is Isaac alright?"

"He can't remember anything," Derek voices, "but he's fine."

I nod slowly and murmur, "That's good."

"Are you?" Derek asks.

"Am I what?"

"Fine," Derek answers.

"Yeah," I tell him. He gives me a disbelieving look, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know."

"Are you staying anywhere?" He asks.

I shrug, "Yeah, uh, I might stay with Sami. Or a motel, I have a motel in mind…somewhere." I sigh and blink away the moisture in my eyes, leaning my head against his shoulder. The T-shirt is soft, but his arm is hard with muscle. I don't complain about it and close my eyes while his hand rests on my shoulder. "I should probably go check in. It's getting dark."

"You'll stay with me," Derek says, a simple order.

I look up at him, my chin sitting on his bicep, "Really? You wouldn't mind?"

I try to play surprised, but really, I was aiming for this. There was too much going on and in four months, I had been yearning for this almost 24/7.

Derek obviously doesn't believe my act, but nods anyways, "Of course."

I smile up at him, "Okay."

* * *

"So this is where you're staying?" I ask him.

"Yeah," Derek answers, setting my suitcase on a chair by the giant, metal, vault-like door.

I look around the big open space, where there's very few furniture separated around it. A metal desk with a chair sits by a spiral staircase, a bed by a broken-down wall, a couch on the other side of the room. I look around the brick wall with a gaping hole punched through it and see a dresser in the corner with clothes poking out of the drawers.

"It's nice," I tell him, "Much better than a cable car."

He scoffs at that and moves some books into a pile on the desk. I walk over to the big window and look outside. I can faintly hear police cars off in the distance and the streets look eerie in the dark, with only a few flickering spotlights on the dimming sidewalks.

"Where's Isaac?" I ask him, turning around to face him.

He clicks off a lamp on the desk and answers, "Catching up on school with Scott."

I slink down to where's he standing and lean on the desk in front of him, "So we're all alone?"

"It looks that way," Derek says, moving closer.

My heart starts pounding with anticipation while he stares down at me, moving his arms on either side of me and leaning on the desk. I can feel the heat of his body as he presses closer, his chest to mine, legs to legs.

"Well," I say, my mouth brushing his, "Let's not waste it."

He crashes his mouth on mine, moving his lips in rough, hungry motions. I start to feel his canines growing sharper, barely pressing on my mouth. I tangle my fingers in his hair then run my palms down his jaw to feel the prickling of his growing beard. I pull back and start to unzip my dress.

"Do you want to?" I ask him.

His eyes flash that brilliant alpha-scarlet and there's a low beastlike growl deep in his throat while he gives me an agreeing look and starts to undo the rest of the dress.


	4. Sunrise Sunset

A little short, but I hope it's satisfying. Also, I've never been drunk, so bear with me on this chapter.

Review!

* * *

_**Please won't you leave me alone so I'll go,  
Don't you bother to attempt or I'll scream,  
I will just wait for the sun to rise again**_

_**-**We Are Trees_

"_So, there's this party_," Sami starts off, calling exactly at sunrise.

I stop her in a heartbeat, "A party? I don't know if I'm the mood for a party."

"_A party would get your mind off things_," Sami points out. "_Plus, it's hosted by someone from a different school, so if anybody does something stupid nobody will care_."

"Anybody as in anybody from that party or anybody that we know is going?" I ask her, cradling the phone in my shoulder.

"_Anybody we know_," Sami says. "_Also, it could be good leverage_."

"Hmm," I mutter, "Though possible blackmail sounds tempting…I think I'll pass."

"_Look,"_ Sami asks. "_I worry about you. Especially now, with everything going on_; _it'll be good to get out for a while_."

I shuffle through the gaping hole in the wall of Derek's loft and go to the bookshelf that serves for a pantry, with a red microwave sitting on top of it and the mini-fridge that sits in the corner and look for something to eat. This actually means I'm looking for a plastic water bottle and a microwavable Lean Cuisine.

I swear Derek could be Amish. I, on the other hand, have been corrupted by the era of technology.

I sigh and shift my phone to the other shoulder, opening a box and shoving the plastic bowl of food into the microwave.

"Maybe," I fold, "I could go for a couple hours."

"_Trust me_," Sami says, "_a couple hours of partying could help. You know, loosen up a little_."

"Right," I hum, grabbing a fork from the assortment by the microwave, "Loosen up."

"_Good_," Sami cheers, "_I'll pick you up around nine. Wear something nice_."

"I'll see if I can find anything. Everything else is still back in Seattle."

"_If you need anything, just ask…I'll see you later."_

"Bye."

I go back and find Derek sitting at the desk, flipping through those ancient books he loves to sit around and read so much.

"Looking for anything in particular?" I ask him, sitting on the opposite chair.

He doesn't even look up as he answers, "Something to help Isaac remember what happened that night."

I nod and eat the last of the food, yawning inaudibly. I toss it into the garbage and wash off the fork, putting it back in the tray.

"Haven't you been sleeping like a rock for days?" Isaac strolls in, taking a jab at my excessive tiredness. I see he's eating chicken from his own plastic tray. I wrinkle my nose at the scent of it, my gag reflex kicking in.

You'd think werewolves would know when food's past its expiration date.

I shrug in response and Isaac sits on the spiral staircase and eats what passes for his breakfast as I slope down in the chair again. I watch Derek look through his books and ask, "Want any help?"

He looks up at me and then looks over the books on the desk, taking one and sliding it over to me, "If anything looks useful, say so."

"Right," I mutter, flipping through the pages, skimming through and looking for key words. I look up at Derek again and find myself flashbacking to the few weeks.

"_You know," Scott starts, looking through the books on the table and picking a frayed and grimy-looking one. "It's okay if you wanna talk about it." _

"_I don't wanna talk about it," I shoot back. "I just want to pass my GED test." _

_Scott slumps back in his chair and looks around the library, "I just want to pass a quiz."_

_I shrug, looking through the mathematics section of the practice test, groaning, "I hate math." _

"_It's not that hard," Scott mumbles. _

"_Because you're good at math," I point out. "My usual method for math is: Step 1: Write down the question. Step 2: Cry." _

_Scott snorts and gets a glare from the librarian, which I thoroughly enjoy. He looks back down and flips the page. _

"_So, what does Derek think about all of this?" Scott pitches. "About…your dad being the leader of the alpha pack?" _

"_We don't talk about it much," I tell him. "But he does that little eyebrow thing that means he doesn't believe me when I tell him I'm fine." _

_Scott cocks his eyebrow disbelievingly in response. _

"_I'm fine," I glare at him. _

"_Eccedentesiast," Scott mumbles._

_I splutter, "What?"_

"_Ecce-" He notes my confused look and sighs, "Nevermind." _

* * *

_I flutter my eyes open, blinking away sleep. I sit up a bit in the bed, which is surprisingly comfortable for the lack of money Derek puts into his furniture. _

"_You should get dressed," Derek remarks, striding in, fully clothed again. _

_I lie back down, pulling the comforter over my face, my muscles aching. _

"_Isaac'll be back in a few minutes." _

_Now _that_ gets me up and sighing, "Mm, alright." I push off the comforter, but keep the sheet over me as I get up from the bed to put some clothes on. Derek leans against the bricks jutting form the hole in the wall that connects the rooms together and I pause and smile up at him; for once, not thinking of anything but him._

"Find anything?" Derek asks me.

I realize I've just been staring at the same page for more than five minutes. I look up to find him staring at me with his eyes narrowed in concern.

I shake my head, "Sorry, daydreaming." I stand up and close the book again, seeing Isaac is now missing from the loft. I sigh in exasperation, annoyed that I'm so tired.

Stress, that's it.

I put a hand on his shoulder and stroke his shirt with my thumb, "We'll find something."

Derek sits back in his chair and grits his teeth, "We should've found them by now."

I rub his shoulders and murmur, "We will."

He closes his eyes and leans his head back while I thread my fingers through his spiked up hair, which I can dimly feel the gel covering strands of it. He sighs softly, relaxing just a little.

* * *

"Alright!" Stiles says, clapping his hands on the steering wheel while I climb in and settle in the backseat with Scott; Sami being picked up first and declaring, "Shotgun!"

I smile at Scott quickly and tug at my hair, tightening the ponytail. He smiles back and says, "You look nice."

"I know."

"Not you," Scott says.

Stiles smiles in the rearview mirror at him in mockery. He mimics, "Not you. You know that could severely damage my self-esteem. It's damaging."

I roll my eyes and sit back while Sami and Stiles play truth or dare. Apparently, they had still managed to be friends.

"What kind of party is this anyways?" Scott asks as we pull up.

"A birthday party," Stiles answers as we stumble out and follow him up the stairs.

"For who," I ask him.

"This one girl Heather from Pre-K," He answers. "I've known her for forever."

I nod and look over to Sami, who purses her lips but keeps her eyes bright with excitement, successfully masking her jealous look from Stiles, but not me and Scott.

Stiles still smiles like a goof while he walks in to be meted by a pretty blonde who calls, "Stiles!"

"There's the birthday girl!" He gestures to us and begins, "I brought some fr-"

Her glossy lips crash onto his and I stifle a laugh because of Scott's and Sami's faces. I cover my mouth with my hand and share a look with Scott, who gapes at me in surprise and confusion.

Meanwhile, Sami's lips look thin and her cheeks are red while her eyes look over to the other side of the room.

"Glad you could make it," she says.

"Me, too," Stiles says, his eyes wide.

"Help me pick out a bottle of wine?"

"Yes," Stiles answers as she drags him off through the crowd.

I laugh and turn to Scott, thoroughly amused. He bites his lip and Sami looks back at me, her eyebrows raised, her cheeks still flaming a deep rosy color.

"Are you jealous?" I ask her.

"No," she says. "Let's go get something to drink."

I smile and turn back to Scott before following, asking, "Wanna tag along?"

Scott nods, "Please."

"Come on," I tell him, dragging him by the arm, winding through obstacles.

"Why are you so tired?" Sami asks, pouring me another glass of punch, which is obviously spiked by the taste of it.

"I don't know," I admit. "Stress, maybe?"

Sami nods, "Sounds legit."

* * *

I scoff and down the punch, welcoming the dulling senses.

"When I said 'loosen up'," Sami starts, remarking my who-knows-what-number glass of punch, "I didn't mean drink all the booze. Share a little."

I roll my eyes and tell her, "It's just my like si-ourth… fourth drink. And they're small glasses."

Her face spins out of focus and I start to sway a little, feeling the room spin in a slow circle and then start over again, like watching a gif of a revolving door.

It feels _great_. No thinking about Mom, or Dad or Leo or Aiden and Ethan and Kali and Ennis.

"Am I moving really fast?" I ask her, leaning on her, "Cause, ha, ha, ha, ha, you're really…unfast…"

I burst into a fit of laughter until my stomach starts to burn and I double over until Sami holds me up and pats my head.

"You don't really know the difference between 'loosen up' and 'get drunk as hell', do you?"

I lean my head on her shoulder and giggle at her deep, slow voice.

"You sound like Morgan Freeman," I say, pointing at one of her faces, all of which seem layered onto one another. "Loosen up." I mock in a deep voice, "I sound like a jazz singer. You…you sound like…Oh, no…"

I lean forward and hold my stomach, a deep whale sound coming up from it and groan again.

"Oh, Diana, come on," Sami moans, half-dragging me through the house.

Everything blurs like I'm seeing through a waterfall or something and I close my eyes, my head starting to ache and my stomach feeling like it's burning.

"What happened?" I hear someone ask. I open my eyes and look at Scott.

"Scott!" I ask, "What are you doing here?"

"I came here with you," Scott says. "I just went to the bath-Are you drunk?"  
"I am not drunk!" I defend, pointing a shaky finger at him. "I am partying…and drunk."

Scott looks over at Sami and I can feel her shrug, triggering another grumble from my stomach. I lean forward and moan.

"Here," Sami throws my arm around Scott's shoulders and says, "Take her to the bathroom. I'll get some water."

Scott wraps his arm around my waist and guides me upstairs to a white, clean bathroom. I lean against the toilet seat cover and groan again as he closes the door.

"Here, wait," Scott says, gently pulling off the necklace of chains from around my neck.

I lurch my head forward and Scott opens the cover before I vomit into the toilet. He looks away with a disgusted look on his face. I hurl up the rest of the alcohol, along with the dam hiding everything and sink back into the space between the toilet and the sink and bury my face in my knees, letting out a loud sob.

Scott closes the lid and flushes it away and I burst into tears on the floor, my hands on the back of my neck.

"Diana?"

(_your brother)_

_ (it looks like she did it to herself)_

_ (daddy, do you love me)_

_ (very much)_

I crumple into myself, weeping and gasping, soaking my face with tears.

After a few minutes: "Diana?"

I look up and see Scott kneeling beside me, looking at me with pity and concern.

Let him pity me; like it matters now.

"Diana?" Scott asks. "Are you okay?"

"Why did they leave me?" I ask, looking up at him through the flood in my eyes.

Scott puts a hand on my shoulder and sits closer, licking his lips, not knowing what to say.

I gasp again, like a child having a tantrum, "Your parents are supposed to love you, aren't they?"

"Yeah," Scott whispers, squeezing in beside me. I lean my head into his shoulder and he reaches his over to rub my shoulder.

"And they left me," I sniffle, easing up.

"They loved you," Scott tells me. "Your mom loved you."

"What about my dad?" I ask, looking up at him, my eyes tearing up again.

Scott gulps and sighs, looking for an answer.

I shake my head and take a couple of deep breaths while Scott holds me, leaning his against mine like a brother would; like Leo used to.

"Want me to walk you home?" Scott asks after I start to breath at a normal pace again.

I nod into his shoulder, "Okay."

He helps me up and keeps his arm over my shoulder protectively, making sure I don't fall down the stairs for lack of proper mobility. I lean my head against his shoulder again and wrap my arms around his waist to stand up straight.

"I'm gonna text Stiles and tell him I'm taking you back to Derek's okay?"

I nod and close my eyes, letting him lead the way back to Derek's loft, repeating Scott's words in my head until I start to believe them.

_**They loved you…**_


	5. Rumble and Sway

****Thanks to those of you who reviewed! Let me know what you guys think.

* * *

_**"Don't you tempt me, don't you start with one of your lies.  
I'm leaving running home, just a word to the wise,  
Don't you tell me no truth, I want only your lies"**_

_-Jamie N Commons_

* * *

**Everything hurts and I am dying.**

That quote is the only thing I can use to describe my morning. My head hurts, _**noises**_hurt, my stomach hurts from too much alcohol and too little food and I feel ready to throw up. I sit up on the couch and look around, spying no other living things.

That is, until Isaac comes slamming the door behind him.

"Ugh," I groan loudly and cover my ears, sinking back into the couch.

Isaac says a quick, "Sorry," and then goes to sit on the table in front of me. "You look awful," are the next words to come out of his mouth.

"Gee, thanks," I mumble, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.

Isaac holds out a bottle of water and says, "It's not cold or anything, it'll help."

"Thanks," I tell him. "Aw, my head hurts."

"Yeah that happens when you get insanely drunk," Isaac says.

"It won't happen again, trust me," I tell him. "How did I get back?"

"Scott dropped you off," Isaac says, pushing off his shoes with his feet and sitting beside me on the couch. "You were basically falling on the floor. Derek didn't seem too happy about it either."

"Mm, well, karma's a bitch." I look around the room and then to Isaac, who now has his feet in my lap, "Where is he, anyways?"

"Talking with Peter." When I raise my eyebrows at him, he closes his eyes and leans his head back, saying, "It's about this thing to help me remember about that night."

I pat his shins and nod, "Alright, then. I'm gonna take a shower and go by some Advil or something."

"Mm-kay," Isaac says, closing his eyes again. "Hey," he stops me, "could you pick up some more body wash? We're almost out?"

"Yeah, no problem," I tell him, holding my head.

Before I can get to into the shower, I throw up, thankfully making it to the toilet in time.

Never will I ever get drunk again.

* * *

The store isn't so bad. The lights are dim and there are very few people around to make noise.

I look through the pills, spotting the usual and grabbing a small bottle of them.

"Okay," I mumble to myself, looking down at my hand for the others things I'm supposed to pick up. Written on the back of my hand is: body wash along with other essentials. I rub my temple quickly and pass by the toiletries isle, a certain box gaining my attention.

I sigh, fear wrenching my insides.

**_ "Oh no."_**

* * *

"I'm starting not to like this," Isaac says.

"None of us do," Derek says, narrowing his eyes to me to clarify. I look away and fidget my hands.

"You know what?" Isaac says, really just talking to himself, "I definitely don't like this and I definitely don't like him."

"It's not like he's going to kill you or anything," I tell him.

Isaac bites his cheek and gives me a look, "Thanks, Diana."

"You'll be fine," Derek says.

"Does it have to be him?" Isaac whines.

"I don't know how to do it, he does." Derek tells him.

Isaac twists his fingers in anticipation going on, "You know Scott doesn't trust him and personally, I trust Scott."

"Do you trust me?" Derek asks, looking up from his book.

Isaac pauses and licks his lips, mumbling a quiet, "Yeah. I still don't like him though."

"Nobody likes him," Derek states.

Then our eyes spin towards the door, which opens to reveal Peter Hale, in all his glorious arrogance, wearing boots he can kick your ass with and a smirk on his face that tells us he could hear it all.

He smiles sardonically and the first words to come out of his mouth are: "Boys, I know coming back from the dead has left my abilities somewhat impaired, the hearing still works. So I hope you're comfortable having to say whatever you want to say," he gives a special look to Derek, "straight to my face."

Derek stands up, "We don't like you," slams the book on the desk and adds, "Now shut up and help us."

This is the answer to which Peter smiles and shrugs, "Fair enough."

I cross my arms and lean against the desk, asking, "Now what would you need to do this?"

Peter smirks my way and answers, "Well, first," he comes up next to me and leans towards me, "I will need a chair." He leans away, sliding the chair in front of the desk.

Derek glares at Peter while he instructs Isaac to sit, which Isaac responds to by glancing at the chair, then Peter and sitting down slowly.

"Relax," Peter orders. "I'll get more out of you if you're calm."

"How do you know how to do this again?" Isaac asks.

"It's an ancient ritual," Peter says, "Mostly used by alphas. One slip and you could paralyze someone…or kill them."

Derek looks up at him suspiciously from his place on the table by the sidelines. I lean against the desk. Derek watches from the side, I from the back; our positions somewhat the same to those of cameras at a game, watching carefully for foul moves.

"So you've done this before?"

"Well, I've never paralyzed anyone," Peter answers.

Derek narrows his eyes.

"Wait," Isaac catches on, "does that mean-"

Peter thrust his claws into Isaac's neck, embedding them deep within the skin. He throws his head back and I step cautiously out of the way, circling them from afar and watching from the side.

Peter's eyes burn blue while Isaac's turn to flickering gold, like someone holding a flashlight behind a piece of amber. He struggles and scratches at Peter, whose head tips back like someone's wrapped their hand around his throat, twisting it backward.

Isaac kicks back from his chair, his back arches.

Derek stands up, ready to tear them apart. Peter's eyes flutter around the room, like he's looking for something important. I hold up my hand to Derek and he looks to me, his brows creasing. I mouth to him, "Don't."

He grinds his teeth and steps back, watching carefully.

"I see them," Peter says, his voice raspy. His eyes flit and Isaac's mouth opens in a silent scream while the muscles in Peter's face work to breathe through it.

He flies back, landing on the desk, balancing himself on it. I walk over slowly, bending down by him, "What'd you see?"

"It-it was..." he strides shakily across the room, he clasps his fist, blinking his eyes. "Images, shapes, it was…"

"Erica and Boyd?" Derek asks, Isaac holding his neck with his head perched low.

"Worse," Peter says, regaining his stability.

"Deucalion," Derek says.

I cross my arms and look to the floor, ashamed and uncomfortable. I'm not used to him being seen as this Alpha to the others. A murderer.

"He said," Peter starts, "He said that time was running out."

"What does it mean?" Isaac asks, his voice laced with fear.

Derek sits on the table and says, "He's going to kill them."

"No," Peter defends, "But he did make them a promise that by the full moon that they'd both be dead."

"The next full moon?" Derek asks his voice rough.

Peter tilts his head back, staring him in the eye, "Tomorrow night."

I lean back on the windowsill, feeling nauseous again. Peter eyes me curiously and Derek asks, "Do you know what he's going to do?"

I shake my head and answer, "No. But…"

"What?" Isaac asks.

They all look to me expectantly and I sigh, "If they're going to be dead by the full moon, then he won't be the one to kill them. You didn't finish training them for the full moon, right?"

Derek stands up, crossing his arms, "No, I didn't get the chance."

"Then they'll be out of control," I tell him. "And he's blind; he can't kill out of control werewolves on his own during the full moon."

"So he'll get someone else to do it for him," Peter suggests.

I toss my hand in Peter's direction, indicating that he's spot-on with my theory, "Probably, yeah."

My phone vibrates against the metal desk and I look at the ID, utterly confused.

"Who is it?" Isaac asks.

"The police station," I tell them, flipping it open. "Hello?"

"_Hello_," I recognize Sheriff Stilinski answering "_Is this Diana Arvin?" _

"Uh, yes."

"_I would like to talk to you about your friend_," he pauses, "_Samantha Rayne."_

"Why?" I ask, getting nervous. "What happened to her?"

_"We've received information that she may be missing. We'd like to ask you a few questions_."

"Of course," I tell him. "I'll be right over."

_"Thank you_," he says, hanging up.

I close the phone and pull on my Vans, getting ready to leave.

"What happened last night?" Derek asks, looking me over, genuinely curious.

"I don't know," I tell him. "I thought she left with Stiles."

He nods and says, "Call if anything comes up."

"Your phone's broken," I point out to him.

"Then call Isaac," He says.

I sigh and try to pass him, "I'll call, I have to-" I maneuver around him, opening the door and closing it with a loud _clunk_.

* * *

**"What time did you get to the party?" **

_ "Around nine."_

**"Did you see anything suspicious? Anyone following you?"**

_ "No, everything was fine when we got there." _

**"Did Sami display any type of unusual behavior?" **

_"No, she seemed perfectly fine." _

**"Did you see her anytime after? Any calls?" **

_"She left a voicemail, but that was during the party. I saw her after that."_

Those were most of the questions; I won't go on about any others, mostly because they seem so utterly pointless.

And it's barely ten seconds after I get back that Stiles calls us back to school.

* * *

"How is a bruise going to tell me where Erica and Boyd are?"

Derek glares at them for seemingly wasting his time, Lydia stands there like she's bored and Allison stares down Derek like she's planning to kill him in his sleep while Scott tries to talk some sense into all of them.

Stiles and I sit idly by in a couple of desks.

"It's the same on both arms," Scott pleads, "Exactly the same."

"It's nothing," Derek points out harshly.

"Pareidolia," Lydia says.

It's so utterly quiet I can swear I hear crickets.

Lydia practically rolls her eyes, "Seeing patterns that aren't there. It's a subset of apophenia."

The explanation doesn't seem to help much.

"They're trying to help," Scott tells him.

"These two?" Derek asks. "This one," he points to Lydia, "who used to me to resurrect my psychotic uncle." Lydia glares at him while he snarls, "Thank you. And this one," he now motions to Allison, "Who shot about thirty arrows into me and my pack."

"Well," Stiles points out, "No one died. Okay, there may have been a little maiming, a little mangling, but no death."

"Stiles," I sigh, "That is the biggest lie you have ever told."

He throws his arms up at me and I turn to Derek, "Derek, they were practically brainwashed into doing those things."

I can tell he disagrees with me by the glare he's giving me. I stand up and go to Scott's side on this one, "We need _anything_ that can help us right now."

"My mother died," Allison says.

"Your family's little honor code killed your mother," Derek declares menacingly, "not me."

"That girl was looking for Scott," Allison says. "I'm here to help him, not you."

"You want to help?" Derek tells her. "Find something real."

He stalks out, his body rigid. I start to follow him and Scott says, "Diana?" hoping for me to believe it.

"He's my ride," I tell him. "I'll talk to him for you guys, okay?"

Scott relaxes a little, "Thanks."

"Yeah, don't thank me yet."

* * *

"You _**actually**_ trust them?" Derek asks me after trying to talk to him, "After what they did?"

"Well, no," I tell him. "But it _**was**_ the same, they were right about that."

"So I should just take their word for it, think it's something special?"

"Derek-"

"It was useless."

"Slow down," I tell him, leaning my head into my hands, the nausea creeping up on me again.

The speed drops surprisingly low and Derek turns to look at me, "Are you alright?"

I nod and lean my head against the door, sweat breaking out on my forehead. "I'll be fine."

"You're pale," Derek tells. He reaches forward and grabs my chin gently, looking me over. "Are you sick?"

I shake my head, "I'm fine."

He strokes my cheek with his thumb, "Really?"

I nod and pull away, leaning back against the window, swallowing down the rancid vomit rising in my throat.

He rubs my shoulder, "You tell me if something's wrong."

"I know," I mumble.

"Okay," He says softly, speeding up but slowing down from before.

It's so hard to lie to that perfect face.


End file.
